Changing of Seasons
by beforeandafter
Summary: The first time they met, he fell out of a tree and landed on her


**Changing of seasons **

**Prompt**: #59 Tree

**Characters**: Wally West, Artemis Crock.

**Summary**: The first time they met, he fell out of that tree and landed on her

**Notes**: So I randomly chose a theme and this is what became of it. Um, it's AU and kind of rough but tada.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Young Justice, any of its characters or plots. They belong to their respective owners.

The first time they met the tree was in full bloom, the vibrant colours of its flowers causing all to turn and pay attention, young men plucked them from the lower branches to give to their sweethearts, rambunctious children climbing its limbs, ready to use all the energy bubbling up inside of them from a long winter in doors. The first time they met, he fell out of that tree and landed on her.

He had half scrambled and she had half pushed him off her. He had clutched his throbbing wrist and swallowed down the tears of pain threatening to spill over. She rubbed the back of her head while her grey irises turned into laser beams directed at him.

"That hurt." Her voice had been young and angry at the stupid boy who had dared use her as a landing mat.

His eyes had narrowed at the irritation in her tone and pushed the pain in his wrist to the back of his mind.

"Isn't like I did it one purpose. Maybe you shouldn't have been sittin' under the tree."

"Maybe you shouldn't have been so clumsy and fallen out."

They had glared hotly at each other for a long time, as they tried to determine who was going to break first.

"There you are," a male voice called, "come on kiddo. It's time to go home."

The boy started to walk away from her, his eyes didn't leave hers until he had no choice but to look where he was going. The breeze ruffled the leaves, sending a deluge of flowers to meet the grass.

The second time they met was a lazy afternoon with teenagers trying to cram as much as possible into the fading summer before they were once again trapped in classrooms full of books and paper. She was sitting alone under the tree, book in hand trying to find some peace away from the noise of home and pity glances of acquaintances that thought they knew her story. The tree's heavy draping branches had provided her perfect cover to hide for a little while.

He had been playing soccer with his friends in the open spaces nearby, until he kicked too hard and the ball soared across the field. They had turned to look at him, a sure sign that they were going to make him retrieve it. He had grumbled and sighed but neither the less taken off in jog.

The scuffed ball had hit the truck beside her with a loud thud that had startled her from her thoughts and broken her concentration from wonderland. The ball rolled a little before it had come to rest at her thigh. She hadn't been happy because a stray ball meant someone would come looking and she had been in no mood for company.

She could already see him coming towards her, not being able to help the wrinkling of her nose at the thought of no longer being alone in a couple of minutes.

"Hey beautiful." She ignored the call, not entirely sure it had been directed at her.

"Yo, blond girl reading the book."

She snapped her book shut.

"What?!" she allowed as much irritation as she could seep into the single word.

He made a motion to the ball beside her.

"You mind chucking that over here?"

She pressed her lips together and stood, lined the ball up with her foot before pulling her leg back and kicking it with as much force as she could put into the motion, sending it flying over the owner's head to the group of boys on the other side of the park. She felt a surge of satisfaction at the look of shock on his face as it flew over his head. He turned to look at her again.

"That was one hell of a kick. Where did you learn how to do that?"

The third time they met at the tree and this time she was the one doing the tripping and this time he was the one doing the catching. A root had strayed too far to the surface and she had been in a hurry to meet him. The toe of her shoe had caught and she had fallen into his chest. She was no damsel in distress but his chest was a lot nicer than the ground.

She looked up to see him grinning down at her.

"Fancy meeting you here," was his lame line as he straightened her.

She had smoothed her hair in an attempt to shove aside her embarrassment.

"I'm here to meet my husband, have you seen him?"

He tapped a finger to his lips like he was thinking.

"He wouldn't happen to be charming and handsome would he?"

She shrugged, "He's okay."

"Tease."

He had run his hand across the ticklish spots on her ribs before taking her hand in his. They took a few steps before he had stopped, when she looked at him he had been staring intently at the tree, the leaves turning, red, gold and brown.

She watched him study the tree, waited for him to speak the words that fluttered in his mind like hummingbird's wing, waited for him to share like he always did sooner or later.

"You know, this tree will be here after we're long gone," his tone was thoughtful and it had surprised her, he lived in the moment. Tomorrow was rarely a thought in his mind. Musing of poetic things had never been his forte.

"Hopefully it will be," she not so helpfully had supplied, "Maybe it will become the symbol of someone else's story."

He had smiled at her and squeezed her hand. From one of the trees lower braches he plucked the last flower of the season and tucked it behind her ear.

The last time she went to the tree she was alone and winter had set in, the air cold and snow covered the ground in a thick blanket. Her joints hurt and she could feel the wind rasp against her lungs but she only pulled her coat tighter around her body, her eyes had still blazed with the spirit and determination of youth but grief and sadness lingered in their corners.

She had known her oldest has was watching her but was thankful he kept his distance, helped her keep the illusion of an independence that had long vanished with the coming of age and illness and loss. She had to stop her journey that a younger version of herself would have made without a second thought, due to the pang in her wrists and knees and back because of the arthritis that had crept in when she hadn't been looking.

She settled on the bench under the tree's steady and bare limbs. She remembered the day they had walked past and first saw it, the way she had complained that it had been in her spot. She remembered the sound of his laugh and how he had teased her that one day when they were old and decrepit and their knees and backsides wouldn't take kindly to the hard ground, she would be happy there was a bench. She hated it when he was right. She had become too use to being the one that had always been right.

Her oldest watched her, hands in his pockets, the bright shade of his jacket stood out against the grey and white backdrop. She tried to remember another time when the park, the world seemed so empty but couldn't so instead she leaned back and closed her eyes to smell the fragrance of a spring from long ago one last time.


End file.
